


Rainfall

by theamateurexpert



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws Rebirth (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Okay maybe more comfort than I originally meant but here we are, Physical/Emotional Hurt more than comfort tbh, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-21 14:24:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13742826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theamateurexpert/pseuds/theamateurexpert
Summary: Jason had always thought of himself as cautiously reckless. A nice, organic blend; a kind of, “leap before you look, but only because you already know there’s something to fall to,” approach worked for Jason.Usually.





	1. Rainfall

**Author's Note:**

> Ah! This is my first posted work and I'm real excited to get this up here. Big thanks to [Hammocker](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker) (please check out her stuff on AO3, she's brilliant) for helping to inspire and encourage me to actually write again!!

Jason had always thought of himself as cautiously reckless. 

Maybe it wasn’t the best way to describe his oxymoron of a method, but that’s what he considered it. Being completely reckless could land him in the middle of a gang fight, short on ammo, and with a bullet in the head for a souvenir. 

Being too cautious, however, could keep him from making a move that he might only have half a second to make, and he’d lose his chance. A nice, organic blend; a kind of, “leap before you look, but only because you already _know_ there’s something to fall to,” approach worked for Jason. 

Usually.

Jason had done as he was taught: learned the terrain, researched his mark, and came up with a plan. Adaptability made the “reckless” part a viable option, and prevented disaster, but caution was the crucial set up. It made for a clean get away and successful mission, but every now and then, there were some things he just couldn’t plan for.

How could he plan for some low-level drug runners to have access to high-tech weaponry, when there was _no intel_ to suggest that it was a possibility? He couldn’t. 

Sure, he managed to take a few of the guys down, but it didn’t do him any good when he dodged for a pistol shot and was met with a wave of pure energy that was three yards wide. It flung him through the pouring rain, and to the complete opposite end of the alleyway, smashing him against a brick wall.

His only consolation was that the blast took the shooter by surprise as much as it had Jason. Even at a distance, he saw the man look down at the weapon in disbelief, and luckily, he looked more horrified than delighted. 

Shouts of “Let’s get outta here,” and “Come on, he’s down! Let’s go!” reverberated down the street as they made a speedy get away, scooping up the injured thugs as they splashed through the puddles on the street. 

Jason would have found it more amusing if he hadn’t tried to get up to pursue them, only to find that his arms and legs weren’t responding to his attempted movements. Pain shot through every limb of Jason’s body, eliciting a sharp cry of agony, which he had to cut off quickly as another flash of pain shot through him. Broken ribs, if he had to hazard a guess.

After a steadying breath, Jason’s instincts kicked into gear. 

With as much care as he could, he gingerly turned his head to look down at his right arm which was forced out at an angle that even his pain-fogged mind _knew_ was wrong. The armor there had been pulverized the moment it hit the wall and did absolutely nothing to prevent Jason’s arm from snapping back in the opposite direction. His helmet had suffered the same fate, but luckily it had done a decent job of protecting his head from caving in.

He had to get ahold of Roman somehow. Those guys seemed like amateurs at _best_ , but they still needed to be dealt with, especially now that they were armed with something more dangerous than the average street piece. But his field communicator was attached to his belt and required the use of his hands, which was no good. 

Jason’s eyes darted around the alley way. He couldn’t remember the name of it with his head already throbbing from the impact, but he knew it was a couple streets over from Crime Alley. Of course. Roman had a smaller safehouse about ten minutes away by foot, which required him to walk…which was no good.

The rainfall had grown heavier, and the sounds of the city were drowned out as the droplets pounded against roofs and pavement alike, muffling the softer, subtler sounds. At this point, Jason doubted he could even draw a breath and expand his diaphragm enough to speak, let alone to draw attention to his position. Calling for help was, again, no good.

Running low on options, Jason blinked his eyes to try and clear some of the blurriness from his vision, but with no luck. Something twisted in his abdomen and, even as he tried to prevent it, a cough racked his body, sending a whole new agonizing wave through him. Involuntary tears stung his eyes and his mouth was filled with the warmth and copper taste of his own blood. 

His vision had begun to darken at the corners, and he felt the telltale signs of himself slipping away. He had passed out before. He had _died_ before. Icy terror spread through his body as he knew which of the two he was currently experiencing. 

He had to do something. He _needed_ to do something. He couldn’t just lie there and wait to die alone in the street, only a block or two away from the place that he knew was ultimately responsible for leading him to this exact moment in the first place. 

Maybe he would’ve died in the same spot if he _hadn’t_ been found all those years ago. Maybe he was always destined to be one more casualty in Gotham. The thought was utterly hopeless and entirely unhelpful, but there wasn’t much else he could do. 

Blood trickled from his mouth, and tears fell from his eyes, the two mixing with the rain that pelted his face and slid down his cheek. 

He knew he was beyond injury.

He knew he was going to die. 

He was going to die because of some nameless criminal who got greedy and _happened_ to have a powerful benefactor. He was going to die because he got sloppy. But how could he have _known_?

Any time tech like that got released onto the streets, people got hurt. Families torn apart. Lives ended. Jason needed to stop them. He had to.

But he couldn’t. It didn’t matter what Jason wanted or needed, it was all beyond him.

The orange glow of the street light faintly illuminated his ragged, thin wisps of breath as they rose above him, and the cold rain relentlessly continued to fall. There was nothing he could do. 

When it became too much of an effort, he let his eyes close, swallowing roughly and grimacing from the pain. As cliché as it was, Jason’s mind conjured a bright, warm collection of moments from his life. He had lost control of his physical control, why not his mental faculties too?

Scenes of his time at the manor, getting his cape for the first time, the people he wanted to call his family. Regret. Sadness. Pain that wasn’t a result of his broken body. 

His mind jumped to a black, gloved hand. A room of windows overlooking the city. A mask meant to inspire fear, but in him, inspired something else entirely. 

At another point in his life, he would have pictured the cowl of the man he had once called his mentor and father. And while he was grateful to have had some semblance of reconciliation with Bruce, the mask he visualized was different. It was one he had seen so often the past year. The one he awoke to in the morning and saw before he slept each night. 

Roman.

He let out a pained sob, and it was most intense agony yet. Tremors shook his body, but he couldn’t stop himself. What did it matter anyway? 

Jason wanted more than anything to be back at the safehouse. Beside the fire. The two of them reading their own books as Jason laid his head in Roman’s lap. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was theirs, and it was what Jason needed. 

_Had_ been theirs, Jason’s mind supplied, trying to bring him back to reality. Jason was dying. He was going to die, and he wasn’t coming back this time.

He stubbornly imagined the scene of him and Roman again. It was his and he wasn’t going to leave without it. 

Softly he whispered Roman’s name, as drops of rain splashed his face, and slid against his lips. Under different circumstances it might have been peaceful to Jason, maybe even beautiful. 

He wasn’t ready to give up. He didn’t want to go. 

_But it didn’t matter what he wanted._

Jason took as deep of a breath as he could manage and tried to remember how warm the fire felt, as the sound of the rain started to grow quiet around him.

It was so cold.

Among the fading din, Jason heard a distant cry, then steadily more joined in. He couldn’t be bothered to wonder what it was until he heard hurried footsteps slapping against the wet ground coming toward him. 

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands were on him, then more joined in to lift him off the ground. He was placed onto something and then his body moved forward. 

The voices talked over him excitedly as he stopped. Doors opened, and people yelled, and Jason wanted to know why, but his eyes refused to open. 

A wet, but warm, gloved thumb brushed his lips, then pushed the hair from his face. A familiar voice cut through the pattering of the rain, “We’re taking you back, Jason. Don’t you even try to die on the way there.”

Relief swept over Jason. His brows immediately furrowed and he moaned softly, barely cracking his eyes open.

Above him, he saw the face that he had pictured in that alley way, and his body shook again as he began to sob.

Roman gently grabbed his chin, “Hey, hey, hey. You gotta knock that off right now. With as bad as you look, there’s bound to be internal bleeding. Don’t get excited, and we’ll get you back safe, then patch you up. It’ll be fine, Jason.”

Immediately, Jason let his eyes close as he was hoisted into the back of a vehicle, while Roman’s words kept repeating themselves.

He could feel himself fading away again as the engine roared to life. 

He wanted to believe Roman. 

He really did.


	2. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't think this was going to be anything other than a one-shot, but I felt inspired and had to add a second part, aaaaaah. I blame Hammocker. I didn't want it to be too sad, haha.

Warmth. Light. Silence. 

Jason opened his eyes easily, gazing across the scene before him. A sweeping plain of tall grass that stretched over countless miles. It briefly dipped beyond view, only to spring up again as rolling hills and mountains. The sky above him was a deep, rich blue, peppered with wisps of clouds, lazily rolling from the gentle breeze that softly stirred Jason’s hair and the grass below. Warm sunshine fell on his skin, but when he looked up, a tall oak tree towered above him, filtering out light, and casting fragmented shadows. 

Jason stood slowly, taking in the view as he rose. He stretched, then began to walk, with no destination in mind. The earth was soft beneath his bare feet as he stepped forward, heading toward the mountains. 

Every step took him farther, but it felt like he hadn’t moved at all. The only indication of his progress was realized when he looked back to the oak tree standing solemnly, far from him.

Jason continued on for hours, occasionally casting a glance over his shoulder at the tree. By the time the sun was low on the horizon, the tree looked small and frail in the distance, alone in the field. 

The fading gold light etched Jason’s path, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could endure. 

He hadn’t noticed earlier, but his side had begun to insistently throb, and then, a sharp pain flashed through him. He tried to reach for his side, but his arm refused to move. As he came to that realization, his legs buckled beneath him, and he harshly crashed down to the ground. 

He fell to his back and stared up at the darkening sky. Thick, black clouds began to rapidly form. A droplet struck Jason’s cheek and it was cold, but to him it felt searing. Almost all evidence of the idyllic scene had dissipated, as a startling crash echoed through the valley.

Thunder.

Jason grimaced as he managed to sit up and look back to the grassy field. Another booming crack sounded off, and Jason watched as the tree exploded into thousands of pieces, crumbling where it stood. As it fell, Jason watched the invisible wave demolish everything in its path, as it forcibly scattered shredded grass high into the air.

He tried to stand, but his body refused. The crest was approaching, and he couldn't move. 

Rain and wind whipped against his face, and with the looming danger so close to him, Jason did the only thing he could do: scream. Only, his voice was silent, and nothing could be heard as the surge of energy smashed into his body, shredding it, just as it had done to the grand oak.

Then, suddenly, Jason felt and heard the scream rip from his lungs. The twisted sound reverberated against the walls of the room he hadn’t realized he was in, and it sobered his mind marginally. After a few steadying breaths, he calmed down and vaguely recognized it as one of Roman’s safehouses. Only, it seemed to have been hastily converted into a makeshift medical ward. 

Nausea hit him, then a tremendous amount of pain. He winced and let out a soft moan. The cry had been enough to alert Roman’s men, who came in to investigate. One approached Jason, and the other called over his shoulder, “Hood’s awake! Get the boss!”

The nearer of the two men stopped by Jason’s side, looked down and shook his head. Even with his face covered, Jason could read the disbelief. Jason couldn’t blame him. He was certain he had died. Clearly not.

As if to further cement that fact, Roman strode into the room, calmly ordering his men to leave and fetch a med tech. 

Jason’s breath caught in a combination of relief and nervous anticipation. Dying wasn’t a good enough excuse to fail a job for Roman, and Jason hadn’t even done that.

He watched Roman veer off, grab a chair, and drag it to Jason’s less injured side. Jason’s throat was raw from the scream, and even if it wasn’t, it hurt to breath, let alone talk. Instead, he swallowed hard and followed Roman’s movements.

After a moment, Roman brought up a leg to cross over the other, folded his hands in his lap, and let out a gruff sigh, “You’ve got more wrong with you than right at this point, but I’ve been told you’re likely to recover.”

Jason swallowed hard again, and nodded as much as he could manage, chin quivering involuntarily. 

Roman slowly looked over Jason’s face, then turned his gaze to the window, “We tracked down the guys who took you out of commission. Seems like Intergang had a substantial weapons cache in Metropolis and some idiots got lucky and siphoned a few of ‘em off. Big Blue Boy Scout and the Bat were running around playing damage control all night.” Roman paused and met Jason’s eyes again, speaking bluntly, “I killed the man who shot you.”

Jason’s brow knitted, and he took a shaky breath. Roman didn’t look away, so he didn’t either. The two of them sat in silence for a moment, before Roman spoke again, “No one gets away with compromising my investments.” Jason attempted to speak, but before he could, Roman added, with a lower and more dangerous tone to his voice, “And anyone who hurts you is _dead_. You understand? I protect what’s mine.”

Jason was taken aback momentarily. It was the most direct Roman had ever been when discussing the nature of their relationship, and his point came across clear. Jason couldn’t manage to respond, but was relieved when Roman reached a gloved hand out to rest on Jason’s arm.

Immediately, Jason relaxed and took a few shallow breaths. He blinked wearily at Roman, and Roman responded by stroking his arm slowly, but firmly, not taking his eyes off of Jason. 

“I’m sorry…” Jason started, but the muscles in his throat constricted and cut him off.

“Don’t talk,” Roman ordered sharply, gripping Jason’s arm with some force. “If you rip something open, it’s not going to end well for you. Didn’t think I had to explain that.”

Jason gave the slightest nod and let his eyes wander to look outside. His injuries weren’t as bad as they were initially, but it would be a while before everything would get back to normal. The thought terrified him. He earned his keep by making Roman’s problems go away, and he couldn’t exactly do that with half of his body messed up. Just as Jason felt his stomach begin to turn, another squeeze from Roman brought him back.

“Hey,” Roman muttered, “Look at me.”

Hesitantly, Jason met Roman’s eyes again, frowning slightly and Roman scoffed, “I’ve got my men running things while you’re out of the field. People I can trust. All I need to know is that you’re gonna come back from this. Can I count on you to do that?”

Tears stung at Jason’s eyes, and before he could stop himself, he let out a soft puff that somewhat resembled, “Yes.”

Jason couldn’t see past Roman’s leather mask, but he could hear that Roman was satisfied when he spoke again, “Alright. Then rest. This ain’t a vacation. You need to get back to it, a.s.a.p., and that’ll happen quicker if you don’t do anything stupid to make your injuries worse.”

As Jason nodded slightly, a tear broke loose and slid down his cheek. 

Roman reached forward and wiped the tear away, then continued to stroke Jason’s cheek, “The worst’s over, son. Healing up ain’t gonna be a picnic, but I _know_ you’ve been through hell and back.”

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Roman pulled away and called out, “Come in.” Jason hated to feel Roman’s hand leave, but he knew why it had to.

One of Roman’s medical staff came in and further explained the nature of Jason’s injuries. He gave Jason medicine to help with the pain, then something to help him sleep, before being waved off by Roman, who stood as if to leave.

Jason already felt his eyelids growing heavy and he softly moaned, “Roman…” and Roman turned to face Jason, with something unreadable in his body language. 

“Quiet, now. Get some sleep,” mumbled Roman, and Jason found that couldn’t fight to stay awake anymore. His eyes closed, and he could hear the chair legs scrape against the floor. Right before he slipped away, he felt a heavy, soothing warmth on his arm again.

Everything was going to be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus mode!!!
> 
> Play [this track](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8p-E70Xo8wM) of rain ambience on repeat while reading this fic to get the full aesthetic effect.


End file.
